


Nothing Was Destroyed

by indigorose50



Series: No Shame November Fics [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Black Eagles Sylvain Jose Gautier, Crests (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Prompt Fill, Secret Crush, Sharing a Bed, Spooning, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27424462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigorose50/pseuds/indigorose50
Summary: [In the storybooks, true love’s kiss was a shy thing, gentle and quick and usually followed by a burst of light as the curse was destroyed. This was not like those kisses.]Sylvain goes to Hubert after a failed date and they talk about Crests.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Hubert von Vestra
Series: No Shame November Fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997986
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt on tumblr was just "true love's kiss- Sylvain/Hubert" and my mind did. This. Here's the long version of what tumblr got.
> 
> Potential second chapter in the works. Tags to be added as needed.

She had been pretty and sweet and given Sylvain a free apple from the basket he had offered to carry for her. When he asked her to dinner, her eyes lit up and her head tilted in a way he had seen a hundred times. He was used to it. But this time, this girl— perhaps it was the tussle with Miklan last month but things Sylvain thought he’d grown numb to started to rub him the wrong way.

But he had brought wine to dinner anyway. Turned up the charm, let her talk about the large family she wanted to have some day. “With the right man, of course,” she had said, smiling and trailing her eyes over him meaningfully. And boy did he know her meaning.

Sylvain was no stranger to this dance. He had a dozen ways to woo her and then make her despise him. But for whatever reason, he decided, not tonight. He couldn’t play the part tonight. A piece of meat fell from her mouth as Sylvain stood, grabbed the wine bottle, and left without a word.

The slosh of the bottle was too tantalizing to someone wanting to chase away such mental exhaustion, and Sylvain found himself sipping from the neck on his way back to the dorms. It was late. Sylvain was drinking on an empty stomach— if you could call a few mouthfuls of average-grade wine “drinking”— and the last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts. 

Upstairs, light spilled from under a single door. Sylvain had been part of the Black Eagles for a few months now but that in no way entitled him to wander into Hubert’s room at all hours. But if he was the only person awake, so be it. Sylvain knocked once and entered.

Hubert was reading at his desk, a trio of candles keeping him company. He looked up at Sylvain, took in the open bottle on his hand, and raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t have a Crest,” Sylvain greeted him.

“Close the door.”

Sylvain complied. “You don’t know how lucky you have it,” Sylvain said as he sat heavily on Hubert’s bed. It was disappointingly unremarkable; the exact same covers and pillow as Sylvain’s bed down the hall. Not littered with poison ingredients or hiding bloody knives. “You don’t have to pass on a Crest, you don’t even have the opposite problem— right hand to the future Emperor? You’re set for your future.”

Hubert closed his book. Sylvain was flattered. “Who says you _have_ to pass on your Crest?”

“My father. My house. Tradition. The Lance of Ruin. I could go on.” Sylvain took a long pull before setting the wine on the floor, disgusted with himself.

“Your path is your own.” Hubert turned to regard Sylvain, one arm braced on the back of his desk chair. “No one can decide your future for you, Crest or no Crest. That is something you must stand up and forge yourself.”

Sylvain let out a mirthless laugh. “You don’t have a Crest,” he repeated, as if that were the crux of his argument. “And you’re not from the Kingdom. My path was set the moment I was born. Not to steal from Marianne but this Crest is just a curse I’ve been told to pass along to the next poor soul. _That_ is my future.”

Hubert got to his feet and retrieved the bottle, placing it on his desk and snuffing out two of the candles. “All curses can be broken,” he said to the one remaining flame. 

“It’s usually true love’s first kiss right? That's what fables always say.” Sylvain stared at Hubert’s silhouette, trying to guess his thoughts and failing. How empty was that bottle? 

“Breaking a Crest’s influence might take something more powerful.” 

Hubert’s words were heavy with implication but Sylvain was still stuck on the idea of fables. He rubbed a hand over his chest, the place that burned whenever his Crest saved his life. “Still, I wouldn’t mind a kiss right now.”

The last candle went out. In the darkness, a pair of hands held Sylvain gently by the face and tilted his head up. Then Hubert was kissing him.

In the storybooks, true love’s kiss was a shy thing, gentle and quick and usually followed by a burst of light as the curse was destroyed. This was not like those kisses. 

Hubert’s mouth was warm and didn’t taste at all like wine. When Sylvain rested his hands on his sides and pulled him forward, Hubert willingly shifted to sit in Sylvain’s lap, knees on the bed and framing Sylvain. Every time one pulled away for a breath, the other surged up to meet them. Those gloved fingers moved from Sylvain’s cheeks to his neck, down to his shoulders, before wrapping around to rest cupping the back of his head and neck. 

Keeping a hold on Hubert, Sylvain shifted backward on the bed and let himself be pressed down into it, Hubert propping himself up with one arm on his pillow, legs tangling with Sylvain’s and hips _just_ to the left of where Sylvain wanted them.

Just as Sylvain dared to let his fingers drift under the hem of Hubert’s shirt, Hubert pulled away. Hot breath puffed against Sylvain’s kiss-raw lips but when Sylvain urge to call him back, Hubert shook his head. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not.”

“You’ve been drinking.”

The room grew cold when Hubert climbed off him. Sylvain didn’t move. He was starting to be able to see through the gloom, and what he saw was Hubert sitting further down the bed, staring at him with almost glowing eyes. Any protest Sylvain might have given was countered by the wine very much pressuring him to lie back on the bed and yawn. “Been wanting to do that for a while, if it helps,” he said to the ceiling he couldn’t quite make out.

“I’m flattered. Get some sleep.” It was hard to argue that. Sylvain chuckled when Hubert added, “Get those disgusting boots off my bed first.” 

He lost track of what Hubert was doing after tugging off his boots. Sylvain lay on his side on top of the covers, body still just this side of too warm, and was nearly asleep when Hubert climbed in behind him. 

“Hold me?” 

The request was slightly slurred, two words becoming one, quiet enough that Hubert could ignore it if he wanted. Sylvain very much wanted him to, once he saw how the words hung in the darkness.

Then arms encircled Sylvain from behind. A sigh escaped him as Hubert pressed against his back. He suddenly wished he had the energy to remove his uniform jacket, just for the chance to feel Hubert’s bare hands against his chest. But this was enough. Sleeping was safe— the person in bed with him wanted nothing more than for him to rest.

If either one of them said goodnight, Sylvain wasn’t fully conscious for it. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (again, no-shame November means I can make a lil tumblr prompt a two part fic)

Pain woke Sylvain up. Pain and an unfamiliar chill. He had rarely been cold at Garreg Mach; it was too far south to be cold to any self-respecting citizen of Faerghus. It was then he realized he was not under the covers. And that these were not his covers. And that this was not his room.

The previous night was creeping back to Sylvain when he felt movement behind him. He tensed as Hubert sat up. It was hard to tell if Hubert was actually waking up or if he had been awake and just waiting for the first sign that Sylvain was too.

Sylvain decided it was the latter when a hand carded through his hair. “How do you feel?”

The headache subsided minutely and Sylvain hummed in reply.

“What did you mean last night?” Hubert’s tone was edged in demand but his touch was soft. Sylvain looked at him sidelong. So much had been said last night and the exact phrasing of each topic wasn’t quite returning to Sylvain just yet. “About wanting to do that for some time?” Hubert elaborated. 

Sylvain tried for an easygoing smirk, as if he wasn’t wincing at the memory on the inside. “Exactly what I said.”

It was Hubert’s turn to hum. He slowly trailed his fingers away and leaned down to kiss Sylvain again. If last night was fiery and exploratory, this was slow and soothing. Less an indulgence and more a comfort. When Hubert drew away Sylvain felt no need to follow him, just rested his cheek against the pillow and watched this bed-headed, dressed down Hubert consider him.

“Why did you kiss me?” Sylvain asked, point blank and thinking it unfair he should be the only one scrutinized. 

“You said you wanted a kiss,” was the simple reply.

Sylvain sat up, ignoring the throb in his head. He wished Hubert would run his fingers through his hair for the rest of this conversation. “I want lots of things. Why did you kiss me?”

Hubert looked away. He rested his arm on his bent knee, facing his desk. It was the most casual Sylvain had ever seen him. “Comforting people does not come easily to me. You were upset and clearly stated something that would help you. I merely complied.”

“And then you didn’t kick me out.”

“You also wanted to be held.”

“But you didn’t know that at the time.” The mention of his request made Sylvain’s face heat up but he willed it away. Hubert was speaking plainly, which made it easier.

“No, I did not.” Sylvain waited. After a beat, Hubert stood. “You were clearly unwell, drunk or not. Making you leave in such a state would’ve been cruel.”

As Hubert got dressed for the day, he made no move to hide himself or demand privacy. Sylvain watched shamelessly. Last night had left Sylvain wanting; and now he ached to know what that neck tasted like, what it would feel like to sweep the bangs from Hubert’s face and watch both eyes alight with arousal, to have that warmth back on top of him.

“Sylvain?”

Sylvain didn’t know how long he had been staring, only that Hubert was mostly dressed. Fresh shirt, jacket done up, gloves in hand. Sylvain licked his lips. “You said it would take something powerful to break a curse— I mean, a Crest.” 

“That it would. To take away what Crests mean to the people of Fódlan, there would have to be serious reforms. Starting with the nobility.” 

It all sounded so doable coming from Hubert. He spoke as if he had put a great deal of thought into the matter, which was strange given that the challenge behind Crests didn’t apply to him directly. As Sylvain had pointed out last night and laced with blame. 

Sylvain got to his feet. The bottle of wine was still on Hubert’s desk and he glared at it briefly when his head pulsed again. To Hubert he said, “Is that something Edelgard plans to do once she’s in charge?”

Hubert narrowed his eyes but didn’t seem surprised Sylvain had reached that conclusion. “And if it was?”

“I’d say she’s living in a dream world.”

“I assure you, she isn’t.”

“Well then,” Sylvain stepped forward, resting one hand lightly on Hubert’s hip, “if she needs any help with that after graduation, tell her she’s got one heir on her side.”

Hubert lifted a hand to Sylvain’s collar bone— and righted the shirt there so it wasn’t stuck under itself. Sylvain would have pouted, just to test their new boundaries, but the hand continued up to his neck and pulled him down for another kiss. 

Despite his longing before, Sylvain thought he could go on just like this. Just learning Hubert’s mouth and drawing out soft moans as they pressed closer together. The thrill that this was Hubert— _Hubert von Vestra_ — holding him so tightly was satiating on its own. 

They parted slowly this time. Sylvain pressed his lips to his cheekbone. “I didn’t ask for a kiss this morning, you know. And now I’ve gotten two.”

Hubert chuckled. “Is it so strange that I would have desires as well?”

“Not at all. Just surprised it’s me.”

“No more than I was. When you first joined the Eagles…” Hubert shook his head with a small smile. “But that’s a story for another time. You need to make yourself look presentable for class.”

Sylvain unwound his arms from Hubert’s waist, and cupped his face like he had done to Sylvain last night. “So, is this a thing?”

A serious gleam entered Hubert’s eyes and for a moment, Sylvain thought he had, somehow, read this situation entirely wrong. “That depends,” Hubert said. “Do you intend to make your own path after all?”

“I already told you—”

“In a world where such things are possible, would you make a future of your own choosing instead of your family’s? Or the Goddess’?”

Sylvain gave into the urge and ran one hand up Hubert’s face to push aside his hair. He brushed it behind one ear, swallowed, looked Hubert in the eyes. “If this curse could be broken, yeah.”

Hubert lay a hand over his and kissed the inside of his wrist. “Then yes, this is a ‘thing’.”

Sylvain smiled, excitement spreading through him that had nothing to do with wine this time. “That’s… I like that.” He tilted Hubert’s head down and kissed his forehead “But I’m getting that story later.”

“And I am getting a story from _you_ later. Right now, change.” Sylvain thought Hubert would pull away after that, let him gather his boots and try not to skip down the hall like an idiot. But Hubert pulled him _closer_ , a hot mouth pressed open just under his ear drawing a groan from Sylvain, and Hubert whispered, “And next time you come into my room, do not be drunk.”

A shutter drove Sylvain forward, the longing back full force. “I wasn’t.”

Now Hubert did pull away, and Sylvain found himself cold again. Hubert’s look certainly wasn’t— an eyebrow was raised dubiously as he pulled his gloves on, but there was amusement there. Affection, if that’s how Hubert wore affection. 

Hubert picked up the wine bottle and made for the door. “I shall dispose of this anyway.”

Sylvain snorted, grabbing his boots and following him. “People will think you were the one drinking.”

“Actually, they will likely think this is poisoned if I am the one carrying it.”

“And people think _my_ reputation is unsavory.” He grabbed Hubert’s hand as the door shut, stopping them both, his levity fading. “Are you okay with that?”

There was no need to explain what he meant. Hubert was clever enough to get the meaning, much to Sylvain’s relief. It was all well and good to kiss in the cover of darkness in private rooms, but under the morning light in the hallway— well, things looked different. Sylvain’s eyes went from the bottle, to Hubert, to their hands; he dropped his grip. 

Hubert turned back to him, touched his cheek, and kissed him. It was like that morning all over again, slow and reassuring and soft and all the things people didn’t think when they looked at Hubert von Vestra. As if reading his thoughts, Hubert murmured, “If I cared what people in this school thought, I would not act as I do.”

With a smirk, Hubert walked away. 

Sylvain wanted to follow him so badly, to test more things and just be near him and revel in the newness. With a sigh, he turned the other way instead.

Caspar, Lorenz, and Claude were all leaning out of their respective doorways and staring at Sylvain.

Caspar’s eyes were round, mouth agape. Lorenz cleared his throat like he hadn’t been caught spying, let alone spying in the first place, and pretended to check his uniform over. Claude’s eyebrows were in his hair and he seemed to be holding in a smile. 

Head held high, Sylvain marched past them all with a casual, “Good morning,” and a wave with his boots. 

He reached his room without anyone uttering a word. Then there was the sound of someone banging loudly and Caspar called, “ _Ferdinand_ _!_ ” just as unrestrained laughter broke out and Lorenz scoffed in a way he reserved for his house leader’s antics. 

None of that bothered Sylvain, and he shut his bedroom door, eager to go to class.


End file.
